Take Off the Edge
by musicandwritingaddict
Summary: Jace Wayland was abandoned by his father when his mother died in a tragic car accident. He doesn't know how to deal with it . . . except through cutting. Who will be able to save him?
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys. This is my first story on this website, so don't be too harsh. I welcome criticism, if it's constructive, not destructive. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Mortal Instruments characters. They are the property of Cassandra Clare.

Prologue

Jace Wayland had been trained not to feel pain. Ever since he was five, his father had trained him that pain was only a message—that you didn't have to feel it if you didn't want to.

But these days, pain was all he'd wanted to feel. It took away the numbness that had been clouding his brain, his senses, his entire life. All he wanted was to feel something, to show that he was still alive, even if his mother wasn't. It was a physical distraction from the agony that his father had abandoned on a street corner, claiming he was the reason his mother was dead.

He knew the disgust his adoptive family would feel if they knew what he did late at night with their kitchen knives when the nothingness he felt became too much to bear. He knew that they would throw him out on his sixteen-year-old ass, just like his father had

So he covered the scars he gave to himself with long-sleeve black T-shirts. He covered up with the pain with a cutting, sarcastic wit that no one could match. He knew the façade was cliché, but the more predictable your moves were, the more subtle you were. At least, that was what his father had said. Even after his father threw him out, Jace still listened to his advice. He didn't know why he did. Maybe it was because he didn't know how else to live. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, he still possessed a childish hope that his father would actually let him come home if he saw how much Jace trusted and abided by his rules and words of wisdom. He buried that hope deep inside him. But in a chasm of his soul, somewhere deeper inside him, he knew the whole façade and hope was bullshit, and he would never be accepted back into his father's life. Never. Not since the car accident that had—

He couldn't think about that.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to FallenAngelsForever for being my first-ever reviewer. And thanks to everyone who added me to their story alerts. It means a lot to me.

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Chapter 1

Welcome to Hell

Penhallow High School's brochure didn't do it justice.

On the glossy front cover of the pamphlet, there was a picture of a contemporary brownstone with a manicured lawn packed with smiling teenagers, just waiting for the teachers to enlighten them with their bounty of knowledge.

In other words, the little booklet made it look like hell. But it couldn't have been farther from the truth; this place was at least fifty times worse than hell.

This is what Jace Wayland was thinking as he got out of his adoptive brother Alec's Mercedes C-class. He stretched after the ten-minute drive, careful not to let his sleeves slip down his arms. He sighed internally. Life at this place was already almost un-bearable. Sure, Alec wasn't bad—he'd become a pretty decent friend—and Izzy, Alec's sister, was fun to torment and hang out with, when she wasn't rambling a mile a minute about clothes and makeup and her boyfriend Simon.

Think of the Devil! Izzy tumbled out of the car, landing on her high-heeled sandals with a catlike grace. She flipped her silky, waist-length hair over her shoulder and quickly applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Even Jace, who was her almost her brother, knew how gorgeous she was. Tall, thin, graceful. If she weren't so goddamn annoying sometimes…

"So?" she asked. "What do you think?"\

Jace looked at her. "I think I've died and gone to hell."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad. And besides, it's everyone's first day back. I bet you're not the only new kid here."

For the past month, Jace had been getting used to his new life in Manhattan. Coming here had been nothing more than a flicker of annoyance that seemed far off in the future. But now that he was here, he didn't care about the new kid. He was a junior. He wouldn't be as disrespected or disreputable as a freshman. But he was still new. And that meant questioning about where he came from.

Which meant talking about how he'd moved in with Isabelle and Alec Lightwood and the rest of their family because his father had ditched hi, and because his mother was dead. Which meant the past six weeks of attempting to repress the terrible memories was a waste. A fucking waste.

"Earth to Jace!" Alec waved his hand in front of Jace's eyes. "I asked if you wanted to go get your books and schedule."

"No, I don't want to. But I have to, don't I?"

"Yes. Unless you want to get kicked out of school."

"I doubt that would get me kicked out. And even if it did, I wouldn't mind. Hell, I'd throw a raging party, get wasted, and fu—"

"Jace! That's revolting!" said Izzy with a look of disgust on her pretty face. "Let's just go get your damn books."

"I can go alone, thank you," replied Jace. "I'll text you later."

And with that, he walked away from Alec and Izzy, heading toward the school.

I know this chapter was slightly rambly and incredibly boring, but all stories have a boring get-to-know-the-characters chapter, don't they? Jace will meet Clary in the next chapter, I promise. Thanks for the support. You guys rock.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite what Jace says in this chapter, I have nothing against gingers. One of my best friends is a ginger.

Disclaimer: Everything is Cassandra Clare's

Chapter 2

Clary Fray hated school. Academics came naturally for her, but social skills didn't. Not at all. She'd had one friend, Simon. But ever since he started dating that tramp Isabelle Lightwood, she'd hardly seen him. She was friendless and alone.

Which is the reason she was leaning awkwardly against the wall of the deserted foyer of Penhallow High School, waiting for the year from hell to begin.

The door of the foyer opened, letting in a blast of fresh air, its scent fading from the sweetness of summer to the crispness of fall. Clary inhaled deeply, wishing she could spend all day out in the breeze, not trapped in the suffocatingly cloying air of the school.

But the smell of the air wasn't as appealing as the person who walked in the door—a tall, muscular boy with gold hair and eyes to match. There was a sort of ethereal beauty about him, that she longed to draw, to examine further with her artist's eye.

To her surprise, he walked over to her and gave her a cocky grin. "Hey, cutie. You wanna show me where the office is?"

Clary's thoughts of his beauty vanished, to be replaced with a slight disgust. But he looked new, so she decided to help him.

"Sure."

She pushed herself off of the stone wall and turned in the direction of the office. She turned to make sure that the boy was following her.

"So," she said, trying to fill the awkward silence between them. "Are you new at Penhallow?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm looking for a tour guide. And since most of the girls here seem like bimbos, I wonder if you would be interested."

Clary stopped and turned to look at him. "What makes you think I'm not a bimbo?"

"You're a ginger. They may lack souls, but they have plenty of brains, last I checked."

She put her hands on her hips, her emerald eyes flashing with anger. "Do you want me to show you where the office is? Because in case you didn't realize it, Goldilocks, I can just leave you here to wander the halls and find your own way."

He laughed softly. "See? You don't lack brains. You're already plotting ways to kill me." He reached out and tapped her temple. "What I don't understand is how anything can fit in your head. Seriously, kid, you are tiny."

"I'm not a kid. I'm a junior. And don't call me kid. Call me Clary. It's my name."

"Jace is mine."

"Well, Jace. Let's stop making fun of gingers and go to the goddamned office, shall we?"

Jace shrugged. "Whatever you want, tour guide."

"I never agreed to be your tour guide," Clary said, starting to walk again.

"No, you didn't. But I know you want to be my guide. No one can resist this godly face."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll be your guide, but just for the first week of school. After that, I'm done with you."

Even as she said it, Clary knew that even after she was done being his guide, he would never leave her alone.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter's a bit longer than the others. Tell me what you think. Thanks to everybody who reviewed and added me to their story and author alerts.

Disclaimer: I actually own something this chapter! Kaelie's last name! God, I'm so freakin' creative!

Chapter 3

Jace sat in the back-row desk his math teacher, Ms. Lillith, had assigned him, twiddling his thumbs absently under the heavily-graffitied piece of furniture. Someone had carved a picture of a rather sensitive male part underneath the desk which Jace had noticed when he'd dropped his pencil at the beginning of class. That had been the highlight of his day so far, besides getting escorted around the school by Clary. Though she seemed slightly annoying at times, he knew he would enjoy her company more than he would enjoy the other girls' presence. Except maybe for Aline Penhallow and Kaelie Jamieson's. Aline had shown some interest in him, and they'd both seemed like party girls. And when Jace was feeling awful, he partied. It took his mind off of things. Beer helped, too.

"Mr. Wayland. Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?"

"Absolutely, Ms. Lillith."

"Then I know you wouldn't mind paraphrasing my last statement."

"No, I wouldn't mind. But it seems as if that would take up precious time in which you could continue to enlighten us with your plentiful knowledge."

Jace heard a few people suppress laughs and knew that Ms. Lillith's was not among them. She walked out from behind her neatly-organized desk and strode down the center aisle towards Jace. He noticed there was a pad of blue slips in her hand. He sighed, knowing where this was going.

"Detention, Mr. Wayland. Thursday, after school, in here. Let's not make a habit of this, shall we?"

Jace merely shrugged and took the blue slip she held out to him. He jammed it into his jeans' pocket.

This was going to be a long year.

Clary stood at her locker, rummaging through the jumble of books and sketches for her lunch. Her morning hadn't been too bad. She'd breezed through her classes, but it wasn't that hard considering all the teachers were doing was giving the standard respect-is-crucial-in-a-classroom lecture. She'd shown Jace where all his classes were, trying to find more out about him. She had a feeling there was more than met the eye when it came to him, as cliché as it sounded.

Have I been thrown into a romance novel? God, I don't need any drama since the whole break-up-with-Sebastian fiasco, Clary thought, finally locating her lunch and slamming her locker door. She pushed through the crowd—not an easy feat for someone her size—and scanned the hall for Jace. She'd told him to meet her by his math class, which was conveniently in the same hall as her locker.

She spotted him, talking to none-other that Aline Penhallow, the daughter of the man who had made building Penhallow possible, George Penhallow. Aline acted like she owned the school, which she almost did, Clary supposed. But that didn't mean she could walk all over everyone in her four-inch Louis Vuitton heels and sleep with her ex-boyfriend!

Clary walked over to them, in time to see Aline lean in and whisper something to Jace, running her hand up and down his chest. Clary's slut radar zeroed in on her, and she tried to burn holes in the back of Aline's perfect head, telling her to back off.

But she stopped mid-death-glare. Why should she give a damn if Jace went out with Aline? She wasn't even dating Jace. She barely knew him.

She walked past them toward the cafeteria, not giving either of them another look.

When she reached the cafeteria, she saw that almost all of the tables were full. There were a few seats open at the table where the cheerleaders were sitting, but Clary would shove a pom-pom up her ass before she sat there. There was a spot open at the "jock" table, but her ex, Sebastian Verlac, was a football player, and she couldn't stand to sit near him. The only table left that had available seats contained three couples: Maia Roberts and Jordan Kyle, Alec Lightwood with Magnus Bane, and Simon with Alec's sister Isabelle, the girl who had taken her only friend away.

With a cloud of trepidation hanging over her and a considerably darkened expression on her normally happy face, Clary walked to the table and sat on the end of one of the benches, as far away from the cozy couples as she could get without slipping onto the floor. She opened her lunch and attacked the king-sized Snickers bar her stepfather Luke had smuggled in for her. (Her mother didn't approve of junk food.)

"Hey, Clary," said Maia, turning to look at her. Clary wasn't really friends with her, but Maia had always been nice to her.

"Hey, Maia. Hey, everyone." Clary determinedly avoided looking at Simon and Isabelle when she spoke. She could tell they were avoiding her gaze as well. Ever since she'd screamed at Simon about ditching her last year in front of Isabelle because she felt like he'd ditched her, things between them had been as strained as chewing gum stretched out flat.

"Good summer?" asked Magnus, idly flicking a crumb from his glittery shirt. He and Alec were probably the coolest gay guys Clary knew.

"Yeah, it was okay," she said with a shrug, turning back to her lunch. She knew they all felt the tension between her and the couple sitting at the end of the table.

But who should show up at that moment to break the tension but Jace. He walked over to the table—without Aline in tow, thank God—and waved casually at the others. Clary remembered that he'd said he was staying with the Lightwoods.

Jace sat down across from her and gave her a crooked grin. "If you were a tour guide at a historical monument, and you behaved in this way, you would be fire. What if you just ditched your group on a nature trail so you could grab some lunch?"

"If my group was arrogant as you, it would be worth losing a job."

Isabelle suppressed a snort, and Clary stared at her. Had Isabelle Lightwood laughed at her joke? Or was she laughing at Clary in general? She gave Isabelle a filthy look and turned back to Jace.

"But seriously," he was saying. "I thought you were going to show me where the caf was."

"It looked like Aline was doing a fine job of doing just that."

"Awww! You're jealous? I knew I was irresistible, but you seem to have fallen head-over-heels for me, and it's been half a day."

"Don't flatter yourself, jackass. I just have better things to do than watch you try to get into Aline's pants."

"Whatever you say, ginger. So, how's it going, Izzy? Did you convince the gym teacher not to make you run laps?"

She scowled. "No. My flash-him-when-no-one's-looking plan didn't work. Don't worry, Si. I don't really flash in. I just pull my shirt down a little."

"Well. Isn't that reassuring," said Simon dryly.

Maia laughed. "For God's sake, Iz. You go running every morning. Why should gym be any different?"

"Because it melts my makeup and makes my hair frizzy. Hello, Maia. Have you ever read a Vogue magazine? Running in gym is fashion suicide."

Clary sighed internally. If this was how lunch would be every day, she'd sooner eat in the bathroom. She'd have to find a better table tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the wait. Homework's a bitch.

Chapter 4

Isabelle didn't know why Clary Fray hated her. It wasn't like Izzy was ever a bitch to her. But ever since she'd started dating Simon, Clary had treated her like a filthy dog with a disease—a dirty bitch who should be put to sleep.

She and Simon walked down a second-floor hallway. They had decided to share a locker for the year. "Si? Why does Clary hate me so much? I didn't do anything to her."

Simon shrugged, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She was glad he'd grown over the summer; she loved Simon, but it was kind of embarrassing when you were taller than your boyfriend. At least, that was what CosmoGirl! said.

"She doesn't hate you, Izzy. She hates me. She thinks I ditched her when we started dating."

"Well, that's ridiculous. I mean, it's not like we haven't tried to include her." Izzy shuddered at the memories of dates where they'd brought Clary along, and she'd seemed to drag after them, like a piece of toilet paper stuck to someone's shoe.

Isabelle didn't hate Clary; she just didn't understand her. One minute she'd be all chipper and care-free, then she'd be bitter and angry the next, particularly when Izzy herself was around.

Izzy set a goal for herself—a non-boy or shopping related one—for herself, a rarity that was to be treasured.

She would get Clary to like her, if only for Simon's sake. She knew he missed having Clary around, and not being the jealous type, she was going to fix that. Besides, Simon would be so grateful, he might get her something that glittered—preferably diamond earrings.

It was worth a shot.


	6. Chapter 6

Look. You guys have been so supportive in your reviews, and because so many people added this to their story alerts (not trying to sound like a snob), I decided to give you a multi-chaptered update. My goal is to reach eight reviews, so help me out, people

Chapter 5

After lunch, Clary headed to the class she'd been looking forward to most: art. Ms. Morgen, the young, concert-T-wearing art instructor, was probably the coolest teacher at Penhallow. She would skip the "back-to-school crap", as she called it, and let the class draw whatever they wanted so she could "get a feel for what you can do." Clary had been in her class ever since freshman year, and she never got tired of it.

Clary opened the door to the art classroom. The walls were covered in paint-splattered canvases; photographs of people, buildings, sunsets and all kinds of flowers and trees; posters with varying color schemes. There were two huge skylights that the entire art program had fought for because of the room's lack of windows. They were open now, letting in the sweet, early autumn air and striping everything with golden light. Clary breathed in. The smell of oil pastels and paint filled her nostrils, sweeter than any perfume.

Clary was about to sit down at a table when she heard it: "Fancy meeting you here."

Clary whipped around. It couldn't be. This was her haven, a place free of drama. Free of ex-friends and their slutbag girlfriends. Or at least, it used to be. Leaning against a counter was Jace, a cocky smirk on his face.

Clary had had just about enough of Jace. She threw back her shoulders and stormed up to him. She'd tried ditching him after lunch, but it obviously hadn't gone according to plan.

"What are you doing in this class?"

Jace grinned. "I wanted to be in wood shop, but it was full. This was the only class with room left for me. Can I sit with you? I don't know anyone else in this class."

"You know Kaelie," said Clary with a snappish note in her voice, gesturing toward the blond femininidiot.

"Just between you and me," said Jace. "She's a dumbass bitch. But she can apparently throw a party. So can I sit with you or not?"

Clary shrugged. "Whatever you want."

I'll update tomorrow, I swear. But right now, I'm about to pass out, so hasta luego, amigos!


	7. Chapter 7

Know I said I'd update Friday, but my dad's Internet is a bitch. Thanks to my reviewers. And I went with everyone's advice and made this chapter a little longer, so don't blame me if it seems a little rambly and all over the place.

Disclaimer: I've done enough disclaiming. I think it's perfectly clear I'm not creative enough to come up with these characters myself.

Chapter 6

Jace couldn't believe his luck. He'd been put into art class. Fucking art class. He couldn't draw a goddamn stick figure—unless it was doing something questionable with another stick figure, which he figured wouldn't fly with the teacher.

Sighing to himself, Jace glanced around the painfully colorful art room. Looking at the color wheel was giving him a headache. He preferred grays and blacks, which were as depressing as his life.

Whoa. Jace pinched his thigh. He'd broken his promise to himself: no depressing/maudlin thoughts until he got to a place where he could deal with them.

He was pulled from his reverie when he saw Clary walk into the room. She obviously hadn't noticed him. Her red curls fluttered off her shoulders in the light breeze that came from the skylight. She walked to a table and was about to sit down when Jace decided to have some fun. Art was going to suck-might as well spice it up with a little Clary-torture. Even after only knowing her for about five hours, there was something intriguing about getting under her skin.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, putting an arrogant smirk on his face.

Clary whirled to face him, staring at him in disbelief, much to his satisfaction.

"What are you doing in this class?"

Jace grinned at the fact she seemed to be flipping out, but part of him wanted to know why. He brushed the thought aside and answered her question.

"I wanted to be in wood shop, but it was full. This was the only class left with room for me."

By the look on Clary's face, Jace could tell she wanted to go into that wood shop class and make room for him no matter what it took, but he overlooked it then.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked. "I don't know anyone else in this class."

"You know Kaelie," she retorted, un-disguised dislike in her voice and expression.

"Just between you and me," said Jace, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "She seems like a dumbass bitch, though I've heard she can throw one hell of a party" It was so cute how jealous Clary was of Kaelie.

"So can I sit with you or not?"

"Sure. Whatever. I don't give a damn."

"How very kind of you to show such an interest in whether I feel welcome in this class or not," Jace quipped, moving around the table to sit beside her. She scooted her chair as far as possible from his, like he were something disgusting. What the hell was her problem with him?

But he didn't have much time to ponder his question, because Ms. Morgen had started addressing the class.

"Hey, guys. Hope you had a great summer. Mine was awesome. Let's cut the crap—I don't care how your summer was, and most of you don't care how mine was. So let's just skip it and move onto art. I'm sure you know the rules—no running or stabbing each other with scissors, no getting high off of the fumes from the rubber cement, no mixing paint colors without permission. And if you don't know the self-explanatory rules, then you'll just have to learn the hard way."

Jace stared at her. Despite his feelings about art class, he couldn't help liking Ms. Morgen.

"So!" Ms. Morgen spread her hands. "There are packs of drawing paper, pastel crayons, and everything else you might need on the back counter. This week, I'll be evaluating what you can do in every department—drawing, painting, and stuff like that. Today, you can draw whatever you want—as long as it doesn't involve anything that has to do with things I'd have to send you to the office or counselor for. I really don't want to have to deal with the paperwork or have to send any more e-mails than I have to to the man of the school. Have fun! You can talk all you want, just don't annoy me."

And she took a seat on the stool behind her desk, surveying the students as they collected around the supplies. When she was sure nobody in the class was getting high or stabbing anybody, she turned to her computer and began to type, doing God knows what.

Jace picked up paper and a box of those oil crayons Ms. Morgen had mentioned before returning to the table, sitting back down in his seat, and staring blankly at the page he was supposed to create something on. He glanced around the room. Kaelie was drawing something in hot pink—shocker—and seemed to be absorbed in her work, when she wasn't pulling her tank top lower and lower, showing the guy across from her something pink and lacy. Turning away in disgust, he looked at clary. Her head was bent over her paper, drawing with the ease of someone who has been doing art for a long time. Her hair hid her face from view, and Jace felt an urge growing inside him—the urge to brush the hair out of her face. But he didn't, figuring Clary would probably forgo Ms. Morgen's "no stabbing anyone with scissors" rule.

Jace reached over and tapped Clary's shoulder.

"What?" she asked without looking up.

"I don't know what to draw," Jace put as much patheticness into his voice as he could. "Can you help me?"

"What do you like to do?"

I like to cut myself, thought Jace. But I can't draw myself covered in blood.

"I like to do things in the bedroom." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, not remembering she wasn't looking at him.

"So draw a dick on your paper. Maybe Ms. Morgen will kick you out of the class. It would do you and me a lot of good."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Because you're a dirty, arrogant douchebag. And you're related to Isabelle Lightwood."

"Okay. First of all, I'm not the dirty one. You were the one who just said dick. Second of all, what do you have against Izzy? She's shallow and annoying sometimes, but she isn't that bad. And just so you know, I'm not arrogant. I just happen to love myself above all people."

Clary sighed. "Forget it. Let's draw."

Jace shrugged. "Whatever you say." But he intended to find out what was up with this chick. If it was the last thing he did.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry about the long wait. I hate waiting for updates, so I'm totally sympathetic. Or is it empathetic? I guess it's both. Anyway, if there are any dry spells in the updating department, it's because of writer's block or massive amounts of homework. Thank you so much to my reviewers; I can't believe I got 13! That's almost twice the goal I was trying to reach. You guys rock.

Chapter 7

After the somewhat disastrous conversation with Clary in art class, Jace went to the gym, only to find two things. (1): Simon was in his class.

(2) The gym uniforms could have passed for gymnast leotards. They were purple-and-white bodysuits—long-sleeved, thank God-with a pair of shorts to hide the "junk" that could pop out at any moment.

Jace quickly changed in the locker room and walked out into the gym, glad the guys looked just as douchey as he did.

Simon saw him and waved him over. Jace made his way to where Simon was standing. He was talking to Jordan, Maia's boyfriend. The two were laughing about something when Jace reached them.

"I love the leo on you," said Jordan with a smirk. "The color sets off your eyes." He pretended to swoon. Jace flipped him off while Simon snorted.

"So. What do you think of this hellhole so far?" asked Simon.

"Teachers and classes suck for the most part, but the chicks are pretty hot here," said Jace.

"You and Clary seem to be hitting it off," said Jordan with another smirk.

Jace shrugged. "When she's not biting my head off, she's not half bad. Izzy mentioned you two used to be friends, Si. What happened with that?"

Simon looked slightly un-comfortable. "She's seemed to hate me ever since I started going steady with Izzy. I'm not sure why. She was the one who wanted me to get a girlfriend. And it's not like I ditched her."

"Women never know what they want," said Jordan sagely. "One minute, Maia wants to fuck till the sun comes up. The next, she's trying to chop my ba—"

"We don't need to know that," said Simon with a shudder.

"Prude," Jace said disgustedly. "Do you think—"

"All right, jackasses! Listen up!"

Jace turned to see a balding middle-aged man striding into the gym. He wore athletic shorts and a Tommy Bahama Hawaiian-print shirt that didn't exactly match them. He wore a whistle on a silver chain around his neck, and Jace had a feeling that his eardrums would be ruptured by the end of the semester.

"I know some of you are new this year, so I'm gonna sum up this class. You do what I say, when I say it, no arguments. You got any injuries, transfer out of this class. I don't tolerate sprained ankles or fractured kneecaps or any of that crap. Anyone need to go make a schedule change?"

When nobody moved, the coach grinned, though Jace thought it looked more like a crocodile's grin than anything else.

"Great. So, you sissyass losers, it's my job to whip your butts into shape. So, today, you'll be running two miles, just to see how much stamina you slugs have. And don't bother complaining, Sebastian Verlac. I may see you run at football practice, but you're just one of the girls in this class. Right! Get your asses to the track!"

Clary knew she would hate chemistry from the moment she'd seen it on her schedule card.

When she walked into Mr. Stern's class and saw the seating chart, she wanted to shoot herself on the spot.

Her lab partner was none other than Isabelle Lightwood, who would probably be doing her makeup the whole time. And to top it off, the small table she and Isabelle would be sharing was right next to Aline and Kaelie's.

Grumbling to herself about how there should have a "no bimbo" policy in AP chem (where they worked with acid and fire), Clary settled herself on one of the stools at the table from hell, took out a piece of paper, and started to doodle absently. She looked down at what she'd drawn in shock; it was Jace, only he had gorgeous angel wings sprouting from his back. How the hell had that happened? Sure, Jace had several angelic features—his hair, eyes, perfect body (God, she had to get a grip on herself.)—but he was no angel, and he was way more, wait, less—less gorgeous in real life.

Clary felt a tap on her shoulder and hastily crumpled her sketch. Clary. She looked up to see Isabelle smiling a little awkwardly at her.

"Hey," said Izzy, pushing a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. "I guess we're lab partners." She took her Prada bag and sat on the stool beside Clary. Clary watched Isabelle pull out an eye-liner pen and begin to reapply her makeup. Clary sighed—it would be a long year if this was how it was going to be.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys! Next chapter's will be here within the next three days. Thanks for all the awesome reviews; it makes writing this even more worthwhile.

Chapter 8

Jace scanned the parking lot for the C-class, wanting to leave the school as quickly as possible, feeling the dull throbbing of a headache coming on. The first weeks of school had that affect on him-they seemed to suck his strength away, replacing it with an irritable feeling that he hated. Was this what it was like to have PMS? If it was, he would be a hell of a lot nicer to Izzy when she was on her lady time.

Spotting the Mercedes, Jace started to make his way to it, only to be stopped by a long-nailed hand on his arm. He turned to see Aline Penhallow, dark hair pushed over one shoulder, a smile frozen on her pretty face.

"Hey, Jace. You still coming to my party this Friday?"

Jace sighed internally. "Yeah, I said I would, remember?"

He'd only known Aline for seven hours, and she was already as clingy as wet sand. He'd said he'd go to the goddamn party four times already. She may not be blond, but she sure as hell was acting like it. Then again, Jace was blond, so he couldn't really think that with out implying anything about himself.

Aline's voice brought him out of his reverie. "You wanna come over and study tonight?"

She'd moved closer to him. He could smell her perfume-the perfume she sprayed way too much of.

"Study what?" he asked, though he knew it had something to do with their anatomy. "It's the first day of school."

Aline rolled her eyes and gave him a you're-so-cute-it's-un-believable look, not unlike the kind given to puppies.

"Oh, I didn't mean study anything school-related, silly." She put a h& on his chest and shoved him playfully. "Though I guess we could wait until we have some schoolwork to study. How about this Saturday night?"

Jace cringed. A date? With this girl? But what else was he going to do? It wasn't like his social calendar was bursting yet.

"Sounds great," he said.

"Perf!" Aline practically squealed. She planted a kiss on his cheek. "See you then!"

Turning his back on her retreating form, Jace started to walk toward the C-class, only to be stopped again by a tall, dark-haired boy wearing a varsity letter jacket. The name Sebastian Verlac popped into his mind.

"You Jace Wayland?"

Jace sized him up before replying. "Yeah. Who wants to know?"

"Me, obviously. I saw you talking to Clary Fray earlier today."

"Yeah. She was showing me around."

"I'm gonna say this once: stay away from her, understand? She's mine."

Jace rolled his eyes. "From what I've heard, she dumped your sorry ass after you cheated on her last year. I don't really think she qualifies as "yours" anymore."

Verlac's mouth curled into a sneer. "That was a... misunderstanding."

It was Jace's turn to smirk. "Yeah. You fucking around with cheerleaders while you're dating her. Some may misconstrue that as cheating. But I'm smarter. I know it was your six-monthaversary present."

"Just stay away from her. Or you'll be sorry."

And with that, he turned and stalked away, leaving Jace alone.

By the time Jace finally managed to make it to the C-class without being cornered, Izzy and Alec were waiting for him. He got into the car without a word.

"What's that?" asked Izzy, pointing at his face. "You already have a girlfriend? Whose lipgloss is that?"

"Aline Penhallow's," replied jace blandly. "She just asked me out."

"All the girls in the school to choose from, and you go for a slutball? I always knew your taste was bad, but now I know it's downright repulsive. And just so you know, if you get an STD after doing it with her, Mom and Dad'll be pissed."

"Whatever, Izzy. You do whoever you want, and I'll fuck around with all the sluts I want."

Clary banged her way into the house, dropped her messenger bag on the piano bench, and fell onto the couch, closing her eyes. How did she get such bad luck? On the way out of school, she'd nearly run into Sebastian. He'd tried to make amends for what he'd done-again-and she'd blown him off-again-and she'd slipped on a Coke can someone had dropped on the steps, slipping down them and getting a huge bruise on her ass. Life. Fucking. Sucked.

"Clary? You home?" came her mother's voice.

"Yes. Can I have some asprin? And any chocolate in the pantry?"

"I take it the day went horribly. The last time you asked for chocolate on the first day of school, you'd gotten your period and-"

"Mom!"

"Sorry, honey. Why don't you tell me about it? Releasing your mind's burdens will be good for your soul."

Rolling her eyes, Clary pushed herself off of the couch and shuffled into the kitchen.

"I'd rather not. But I wouldn't say no to that." She gestured at the fudge cake sitting on the counter.

Jocelyn Fray smiled, tucking a stray curl of coppery hair, so much like Clary's, behind her ear. "Luke picked it up today for you..

"Well, we can't let it go to waste, then." Clary grabbed a knife and cut herself a large slab of the sumptuous cake. She sat at the table and began shoveling the cake into her mouth.

"Where's Luke?"

"In the store. He said if you didn't have too much homework to come and help him."

"I'll go when I finish this. God, it's rich. Can I have some milk?"

"Hf course, sweetie. It's in the fridge."

Rolling her eyes, Clary got up and poured her milk.

"Oh, I meant to ask you. What do you think of this?" Jocelyn reached into a cupboard-her art cupboard-and pulled out a freshly-painted canvas. She held it up for Clary's inspection. "Not too bad, huh?"

Clary's eyes widened. "That's fantastic! Paris at night?"

"You can tell! I thought it looked too much like Manhatan."

"Not at all. It's spectacular." Clary's bad mood evaporated. Her mother's art had that affect on people. Its beauty made you feel as if your problems were gone. Clary wished her art did that. Her mother said that Clary's art was beautiful too, but in a more dark and intimate way. Clary didn't want he art to be dark. It reminded her of how things used to be, when her father, Valentine, was still there, spreading darkness over everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey Hey Hey! Hope this makes up for my bitchy absence. Luv you guys!

Chapter 9

Having a stepfather who owned a bookstore had several advantages. The free books for one. Despite her love of art, Clary always made time for reading, especially manga. Luke's knowledge of he love of comic books influenced the selection of books in his store; there was an entire shelf entitled "graphic novels" at the back of the shop. And there was always the "I'm working at my stepfather's shop, sorry" excuse for times when she didn't want to do things, like try out for the spring musical last year. And the third was the peace, the being cut off from the world, being surrounded by the scents of coffee and ink and the occasional intoxicating scent of horribly strong perfume. But that peace was shattered the day Jace Wayland came into the store.

Clary was un-packing a box of books while talking to Luke. He was dressed in his typical jeans and flannel shirt, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly tousled.

"Honestly Luke," she was saying. "No one's into the Nora Roberts crap anymore. The only things they're good for are learning how to screw-I mean, please your boyfriend."

"Some people find them romantic, and the book selection in the store isn't based off of what you like," he said, though she knew he agreed with her by the way he shoved one of the books into an almost-filled shelf with slightly more force than necessary.

"Do you think you could help me?" came a voice from behind them.

Clary turned to see a tall, gold-eyed boy leaning against the counter, hands shoved into his pockets. Jace.

"Hey, Clary."

"You two know each other?"?" asked Luke.

"We go to school together," said Clary. "jace is new."

Luke smiled. "Nice to meet you, Jace."

Clary felt her stomach tighten. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he keep showing up everywhere? Why did he-

"Clary?" Luke's voice brought her back. "Are you going to help this young man?"

Gritting her teeth while putting on her best employee smile, Clary said, "What can I help you with, Jace?"

"Isabelle sent me to find her a Teen Vogue. The problem is, I don't know what that is."

A reluctant half-smile crossed Clary's face. "I suppose that's understandable. They're over here. Teen Vogue is a magazine. And you don't really strike me as the type who runs errands for people."

"I'm not doing this by choice. And why are you so talkative all of a sudden? I thought you were angry with me."

"Are you trying to make me start again?"

"So your raging lady hormones have calmed?"

"Shut up, and get your damn magazine!"

It came out louder than she'd meant it to.

"Clary! No swearing at customers," called Luke from across the store. With a scowl, Clary picked up a glossy magazine and practically threw it at Jace. "I'll ring you up."

"Ah! My magazine!" said Izzy with a beaming smile. "Thank you, my servant." She dropped a mock-curtsy and took the magazine from him.

"Remember our deal," said Jace, though he couldn't help grinning. He'd made Izzy a promise: If she stopped bitching about his date with Aline, he'd buy her the back-to-school issue of any magazine she wanted. And it had obviously worked like a charm. She'd shut up instantly, and Jace's headache had dulled into only a slight but persistent throbbing. And seeing Clary had brought it back. What was it about her? It was as if she had some kind of firewall surrounding her, and Jace would give anything to hack past it and see what she really was.

A shudder passed through Jace. He sounded like one of those shitty Nora Roberts romance novels.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey guys! I'm at 25 reviews now, and it's all thanks to you! Your support is incredible. And to A grha, thanks for being my 25th reviewer. The comment on the Nora Roberts books wasn't mine, it was Clary's. I don't really have an opinion about them. You guys are fantastic. Thanks again!

Chapter 10

Even before the pain hit, Jace knew he was having one of those nights. One of the nights Jace would have to reach under his mattress and pull out the only thing that could make the pain stop, make it easier to focus on reality.

Jace sat at his desk, staring down at the 160-problem Algebra review Ms. Stern had assigned. What the hell kind of monster gave 160 problems on the first day of school? Oh, yeah. Ms. mother-effing Stern!

Jace couldn't stand it anymore. It felt like his brain was slowly melting, like the wicked witch of the West. The numbers were blurring before his eyes, turning into one long, hopelessly impossible equation. A perfect representation of his life.

And that was when the pain hit. Jace fought it for as long as he could, trying to repress the horribly clear memories. But one broke away from the rest and settle itself somewhere behind his eyes, an internal TV screen. All jace could do was watch and listen to the memory, praying it would let him go without too much agony.

**Flashback**

The pain of his father's rough hand slapping his face still stung, even in this memory.

"You fucking killed her!" Michael Wayland's voice had always been rough, but at that time, it had been murderous. "You killed your own mother! You're going to burn in hell for this. Mark my words, you little bastard!" His fist connected with Jace's jaw, making it feel as if his teeth were going to come out of his head.

**End Flashback**

Jace had been lucky. The flashback had been brief, briefer than most. But it didn't hurt any less. Pushing away his homework, Jace got up and went to his bed, slipping his hand under the box-spring mattress, he pulled out the leather-scented-sheathed hunting knife that knife had belonged to the eldest Wayland son for the past four generations. It had been his father's most prized possession, and he had given it to Jace on his sixteenth birthday, when times were happier and the blame for his mother's death hadn't rested on his shoulders. The knife was still used for hunting, but not the hunting of animals; the hunting of Jace's pain.

Jace slipped into his bathroom, locking the door behind him and flipping on the light switch.

The small room was immaculately clean. Jace, breaking the teenage-boy stereotype, always had a clean room and bathroom. Cleanliness had been drilled into him by his father, and though his mother had been more relaxed about it, she too preferred not having to clean Jace's bath and bedrooms for him.

Jace stripped off his T-shirt and jeans and sat in the bathtub. He was always careful not to get blood on the floor, should anyone come in to put clean towels in the closet.

The knife gleamed dull silver under the harsh fluorescent lighting. The blade felt cool against his skin as he pressed it into his forearm, only wincing slightly-he'd gotten used to the pain. He embraced it now-it helped chase the shadows of the past away.

Helped to take off the edge.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the support. You guys are amazing! And to :(, no I do not cut myself.

Chapter 11

When Jace woke the next morning, he kept his eyes closed despite the insistent prodding of sunbeams coming in through the blinds. He wished it would rain. It would be more suited to his mood. He always felt hung over after nights like the previous one. His stomach didn't hurt, but there was a raw, almost palpable anger and pain burning in it. His head hurt like hell. But he had to get up, had to go to school. No one could suspect what he was doing, unless he wanted to be thrown into a shrink's office and confess his problems. Fat chance.

Clary stepped out of the shower and wrapped a neon-orange towel around her small frame. She turned on her blow-dryer and tried in vain to straighten her hair out. Not to be reckoned with, her hair bounced back into its normal wild ringlets. With a scowl, she pulled her bright hair back into a ponytail and threw on the outfit she'd chosen-dark jeans and a purple T-shirt. she never wore makeup-too much of a bother, especially when she was half-asleep.

"Morning, Clare," said her mother. Clary grunted in response-she'd never been a morning, even after a shower. She filled a To-Go cup with black coffee, grabbed a donut from the box on the table, and walked out the door with a mumbled good-bye.

Clary was at her locker, jamming her chemistry book onto the shelf when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Jace, wearing jeans and a gray long-sleeved T-shirt. He had a mocking grin on his face, but for a moment, his eyes seemed stricken and pained. What was wrong with him? But before she could examine his face further, his eyes took on the light of laughter again, and she internally dropped the matter.

"You still my tour guide today?" he asked.

"When hell freezes over," she grumbled. "Go ask Aline or Kaelie. Hell, go ask Magnus. He thinks you're man-pretty."

"Alec would kick my ass. And maybe I will ask Aline. I'm going out with her this Friday, anyway."

For some reason she couldn't explain, Clary felt her stomach drop to her knees and her heart give a disappointed flutter in her chest. How could Aline already have sucked him in? That bitch was a venus fly trap-appearing perfectly sweet, but snapping her jaws closed on anyone who was tempted to go near her. And at that moment, Jace was hovering somewhere dangerously close to the flower-wanting to test its sweetness, but not sure if it was worth being sucked in yet.

Jace tapped her on the temple. "Clary? Clary? Are you listening to my highly amusing comments about your jealousy of me going out with Aline?"

"No. But I'm sure they aren't nearly as amusing as you seem to think you are. And I have to go. I'm not going to be late for history because I got caught up talking to an egotistical jackass." And she walked away from him, pushing her bag higher up on her shoulder as she did.

"Hey!" came a bright, cheery voice from beside her. Clary turned to see yet another person she didn't want to be near, Isabelle Lightwood.

"Hi," said Clary sullenly.

"I saw you leave Jace in the dust. Nice job." Isabelle's smile was blinding. "Good for you. And him, I suppose. It'll probably deflate his ego somewhat."

Clary shrugged wordlessly, though she agreed with Isabelle. But she would tell her that when she told Jace she found him funny.

"Hey." Izzy stood in front of Simon and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "You owe me."

"For what?" Simon looked at her, confusion in his brown eyes.

"I'm trying to be all nice to Clary, and she'll barely speak to me. Though I have to admit, she knows how to knock Jace on his ass. She left him standing at her locker looking like he didn't know what the fuck to do with himself."

"Give it some time. She's just a little' hard to reach sometimes."

Isabelle shrugged. "Whatever. You sound like a mother. Give it time! Give it a chance." She snorted derisively. "But I promised you, so I guess I'll still do it."


	13. Chapter 13

Hey guys. I'm not gonna bore you with the details of my absence. I'm just going to apologize. And I have to thank you for last chapter's reviews. SIX REVIEWS! You guys are incredible. And I'm going to tell you the schedule for my updates. From now on, the biggest gap between updates will be five days. Sorry about the pauses, but I have grades to maintain. Love you guys. And about last chapter: I know the math teacher's name is Ms. Lillith, not Ms. Stern. I'll go back and change it when I have time.

Chapter 12

"Mr. Wayland. Do I have to give you another detention slip? Or should I just move you to the front row?"

Jace pulled his mind out of the void long enough to mutter a "no" before returning to the darkness of his subconscious. This always happened after lights like the previous one. He was like a robot, mechanically responding to teachers' without his usual sarcasm, not really feeling anything; feeling a creeping numbness that usually faded later in the day.

"All right. I'm going come around and ensure that you completed your algebra review packets. I hope you showed all of the steps required to reach your answer. Your failure to do so will result in loss of credit."

Jace swore internally. He knew he'd forgotten to do something, but when he'd left his bathroom last night, he'd simply dropped onto his bed and fallen asleep. He hadn't finished half of the problems, let alone shown his steps. Ms. Lillith already had him on her radar. Now he was on her hate-list. Which would have been okay with him if it weren't for the fact that Maryse and Robert weren't even bigger sticklers about grades than his own parents.

After what felt like an eternity, Ms. Lillith reached Jace's desk. He silently watched as she flipped through the pages of the math packet. When she reached the end of his completed section of problems, a scowl wrinkled her forehead even more if that were possible. How long had this woman been frowning? There were crows' feet all around her eyes and deep furrows in her brow.

"Mr. Wayland. Is there a reason you didn't complete these problems?"

"I was doing... other things." Completely true. Jace was a lot of things, but he prided himself on not being a liar.

"Such as?"

"Things of a rather... sensitive nature. They really aren't very appropriate to talk about in a learning environment." Also true. Jace could feel his mind starting to clear slightly. The smart-ass responses were helping bring him back to his old self.

Ms. Lillith sighed. "See me after class."

"Detention slips seem to have no affect on you whatsoever."

"No, they don't really affect me. I really rather enjoy detention. It's quite relaxing."

The two months Jace had spent in a foster home after being abandoned had been a blur of detention slips and chastisements from teachers. They bounced off of Jace like Superballs now.

Ms. Lillith was speaking again. "That's why I've decided to give you something most students consider worse than detention."

"And what would that be?"

"Tutoring middle school students and some freshman in math. I saw your old transcripts and the few problems you completed on your review are sufficient proof that you would make an exceptionally good tutor."

Jace felt his blood run cold. Tutoring? Was she serious? Sitting with a bunch of little brats, trying to teach them fractions and long division? Jace almost protested, but stopped himself. If he showed that he was pissed, it would give his teacher the satisfaction of knowing she had come up with a brilliant punishment.

"Sounds great."

a Ms. Lillith smiled. "I thought you would think so."

She knows she's won this battle, thought Jace grumpily as he stalked out of the classroom. Why did she have to fuck with him on today of all days?

Jace was wary of sitting with Isabelle and Alec and the others at lunch. What if Clary was there again? He could've sworn she'd known something was wrong with him this morning. Plus, after he'd told her about his date with Aline, she'd seemed to grow even more annoyed with him than usual.

So, with a knot in the pit of his stomach, he accepted Aline's offer to sit with her gang at lunch. She'd nearly begged him earlier that morning. Might as well see what her friends were like.

Jace took a seat across from Aline and next to a guy he'd never seen before.

"Hey, J.J. Miss me?" asked Aline, a smile spreading across her most-likely surgically enhanced face.

Jace shrugged, managing to grin back at her.

"Let me introduce you to everyone. You know Kaelie. That's Sam" -she pointed to a guy with a black crew cut who was obviously a football player- "And those three guys are Jonathan, Raphael, and Eric. The girl next to you is Lily."

"Hey," said Jace blandly. Most of the girls at the table were in at least one of his classes, and they were all as hot and vapid as the cheerleaders in those Bring It On movies Izzy was obsessed with.

Jace was pulled out of his insulting thoughts by the piping voice of a freshman passing the table. "Hi, Aline!"

"Hey, Mo! Grab me a soda, will you? Diet."

"Oh, sure! I'll have it in a sec."

"Who was that?" Jace asked Aline.

"Oh, that was Maureen. She's a freshman, and she's totally obsessed with me. Isn't it cute? The best part is she'll do what ever I ask. If I asked her to pole dance on the basketball pole, she'd do it."

Kaelie and Lily started giggling, laughing for far too long.

"My God, is Clary Fray ever going to fix that lice trap she calls hair?"

The whole group turned to see Clary, going through the lunch line, coppery curls tied back in a ponytail. Jace didn't see what was wrong with it. She was still mad-hot.

Wait. What the hell?

He was about to respond when Maureen came back with Aline's soda.

"Thanks," said Aline, taking it without a second glance at her.

Jace had a sinking feeling in his stomach. If this was how Aline was, he might just have a horrible case of the flu that weekend.


	14. Chapter 14

I told you five days max, but my computer was a bitch and I lost my chapter. Twice. I get that you're probably pissed, but just know that I did have this ready. So, without further ado...

Chapter 13

Clary stalked into chemistry, fuming silently. Jace was ruining art. It was the one class she'd always loved, and an infuriatingly, despicably cute-and annoying-guy was screwing it up!

Trying to gather enough strength to deal with her lab partner, Clary sat down and pulled a notebook from her messenger bag. She'd bought it only two days ago, and its original color was already un-detectable because she'd drawn all over it. Clary smiled. She'd have to rip the cover off and hang it in her bedroom, like she did with all of the notebook covers she had doodled on.

A whiff of Izzy's too-sweet vanilla perfume warned Clary of her arrival. She watched Izzy saunter to the table and sit on h} stool. Izzy flipped her dark hair back from her face.

"Hey hey hey!" she said with a jewel-bright smile. "How goes it? Love the notebook. I can't draw on mine, I covered it in stickers. But yours is totally cool." Izzy reached into her tote and pulled out a bright purple notebook covered in stickers of every color, shape, and size.

"Nice," said Clary, pretending to find a sticker in the shape of a cat fascinating. "Where'd you get the stickers?" Might as well make some awkward conversation.

"Oh, the dollar store. One of the cashiers has a thing for me. He gives me free stickers every week."

Clary gave a derisive snort, managing to pass it off as a violent cough. "That's cool."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed, as if sensing Clary's disgust. But before she could reply, Mr. Stern arrived, striding toward his desk. Clary noticed his necktie had various chemical symbols on it. Where could you even buy ties like that?

"Okay, everyone. Shut up and listen. If you don't, I might just write the wrong directions on the board, and you just might accidentally singe your eyebrows off. That was a joke. Laugh, or I'll fail you in the lab you are about to attempt with your partner."

Exaggerated chuckles and chortles filled the chemistry classroom.

"Shut up! Why are all of you laughing?"

Everyone stopped and looked at each other.

"Today," said Mr. Stern, as if nothing suggesting that he was insane had occurred. "You will be doing a lab that tests the chemistry between you and your partner. I'll hand out supplies and lab sheets you'll do the rest. You spontaneously conbust or break it, you buy it! Any questions?"

Several hands shot into the air.

"None? Good! I'll hand out everything. Good luck."

"So do you want to write the answers no the lab, or should I?" asked Isabelle.

Clary grunted with an indecisive shrug.

"Look." Izzy's smile was gone. "I get the vibe that you hate me, and if it's because of my being with Simon, you should know that-"

"It has nothing to do with Simon!" Clary's voice a hiss between her teeth. "It has to do with the fact that you're a conceited, fashion-conscious, shallow, selfish bi-"

"Is there a problem, ladies?" Mr. Stern seemed to materialize behind Clary.

"No," they both said, their voices harsher than need be. Isabelle was glaring daggers at Clary, looking as if she were about to strangle her.

"I'm glad. Why don't you get started on your lab? There are safety goggles in the metal box under the window. Be sure not to snap the straps. We only have so many extra pairs."

"Of course," said Isabelle, her snarling face morphing into its usual toothy grin. "We'll start right away."

Mr. Stern smiled. "Good." He walked to the next lab table, leaving the girls to glare at each other.

"I am not a shallow bitch. There's nothing wrong with caring about how you look. You should try it some time. Then maybe you wouldn't need to be jealous of me and Simon!"

Clary opened her mouth to reply, but Isabelle was already storming over to the goggle box.

I should have taken physics, Clary thought bitterly, glaring at her partner's back.

"Simon Lewis!"

"Even before hearing his girlfriend's voice, Simon knew he was in for it. Whatever "it" was. He turned from his locker to find Isabelle flouncing toward him. Inwardly preparing himself for one of her wild rants.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she reached his locker.

"Your ex-bestie! She called me a shallow, selfish bitch. Let me tell you something, babe. I'm not going to make nicy-poo with a girl who thinks I'm conceited and bitchy and stupid!"

She said all of this in one breath, and Simon waited for her to catch it before responding.

"Look, are you sure she said that? I mean, she could have said that you were a hallowed witch, not a shallow bitch."

A gust of air left Izzy's mouth. "For God's sake, Simon. I think I would know if she called me a "hallowed witch." And that's an oxymoron, if you think about it."

Simon tried to suppress a laugh, which was unfortunately not missed by Izzy. She slapped him on the shoulder. "It's not funny, Si! I know you miss hanging out with her, but I'm done trying to become her BFF! In fact, I'm done talking to her in general, because all I get in return are insults and grunts."

"Look. I know she's kind of' caustic sometimes, but she's great once you get to know her."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe. I'll give it one more shot, but if she bites my head off again, I swear to God, I'll impale h} with my new Jimmy Choos. Got it?"

Simon inwardly flinched at her words. She'd accidentally stepped on his bare foot with those when she was modelling them for him, and she'd drawn a lot of blood. But he figured it was better than nothing.


End file.
